


with thy whole strength

by RedLlamas



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Time, Friendship, Grinding, Kissing, Love, Lube, M/M, Manhandling, Orgasm, Post-Coital Cuddling, Riding, hell yes motherfucking 13th century lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLlamas/pseuds/RedLlamas
Summary: Brother Diarmuid and the Mute share long awaited time
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	with thy whole strength

**Author's Note:**

> 11  
>  "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole strength."  
> [Deuteronomy 6:5]

Diarmuid had been working on cooking up a fresh batch of salve for the Mute all day. He knows that he’d run out, knows just how much he needs it for all the scratches and nicks he gets. Always putting himself before others. Diarmuid smiled to himself as he stopped off the glass tubes. He set them in a basket, and headed for the Mute’s dwelling. The stars were starting to peek out of the sunset haze.

On the walk over, Diarmuid thought of the Mute, his constant companion. Such a kind gentle man, Diarmuid ached looking at his scars and bruises. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to his best friend. He thought of perhaps even helping the Mute put it on, but the thought made him blush, so he put it aside.

Upon reaching his door, Diarmuid knocked on it, waited for the Mute to open it, and when he did, Diarmuid’s heart swelled up at the sight of him. He admonished himself, and held up the basket. “I’ve got something for you!”

The Mute steps aside, and Diarmuid walks in, heading for the table in the small space. The Mute followed him, standing on the other side of the table.

“I made you more salve!” Diarmuid said by way of explaining, holding up a flask. He starts taking them all out, organizing them on the table. The Mute walks over to his side, takes a flask and opens it. He brings it to his nose and takes a sniff, finding it pleasantly clean. He dips a finger in, and rubs the cream that he got onto his other hand, and nodded to himself. He smiled at Diarmuid, who returned it.

The Mute replaced the vial he’d taken as Diarmuid emptied his basket, and when he did, he stood triumphantly before him.

“So, I made you ten vials of salve,” Diarmuid begins, waving his hand over the table. The Mute followed his gaze, then back to Diarmuid. “They should last you another good few months, and I put them in small glasses, so that you can take them with you whenever you’d have to… move around, I guess.”

As Diarmuid rambled on, explaining his recipe and its ingredients, the Mute couldn’t help but gaze lovingly at him. He has always been so kind and gentle to him, never judging him for his past, never urging him to speak. Diarmuid understood him when he needed to say something, and was always loyally on and by his side.

Eventually, Diarmuid started tapering off, noticing that his friend didn’t really seem to follow what he was saying anymore. But instead of feeling offended, he didn’t seem to mind, content with just having the Mute’s attention on him.

It seems that the sudden silence fell on the Mute, who seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he had been in. Diarmuid softly chuckles, and the Mute sighs, rubbing his neck and looking back at him. They share a knowing smile – the Mute had stopped listening during Diarmuid’s spiel. His hand falls back to his side, and now they stand there looking at each other.

Diarmuid thinks again about the Mute’s back, with all its nicks and scrapes. A blush creeps up over his cheeks and down his neck.

“I made you this because… you’re important to me, and I want you to feel all right,” he whispers. The Mute softly smiles at him, and brings his hand up to caress his cheek. Diarmuid’s skin feels aflame. He covers his friend’s hand with his smaller one, and finds sudden courage in him to grab onto his shoulder, get up on tip-toes, and press his lips against the Mute’s. The Mute was so surprised that he grabbed Diarmuid’s hands and took them off him, stepping back.

Diarmuid was blushing, looking at his best friend with confusion and embarrassment. He saw that the Mute was also pink in the cheeks, and felt slightly better at being rejected.

“I’m– I’m. I’m, uh,” Diarmuid began, looking anywhere other than the Mute. The Mute, for his part, nervously scratched his neck, hand on hip. He looked up to the ceiling, brought his hand to rest on his adam’s apple, looked helplessly at Diarmuid.

He tried meeting his gaze, but could only hold it for so long.

“I’m gonna go. I’m sorry.” A pause. He sped to the door, stopped to look back at the Mute, then opened it and left. At the close of the door, the Mute sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He walked to his bed, took off his boots and socks, and stretched out, covering his face with his arm.

He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Of course he’s thought about Diarmuid in a not so platonic manner, but thought that’d his affections would never have been reciprocated.

What he didn’t know was that Diarmuid hadn’t left his door. In fact, he was leaning on it, trying to think of what to do, what to say. His heartbeat was out of control, bumping so hard in his chest.

He wanted to be with him. He wanted to be with the Mute.

He didn’t even take a breath when he opened the door.

At the sudden sound, the Mute looked up, tensing when he saw Diarmuid again.

Diarmuid leaned against the closed door. He looked at the Mute, then away again. He walked towards him, toeing off his shoes as he neared. The Mute leaned up, propping himself by his elbows.

Diarmuid stopped next to his bed. He finally took a breath, and looked up at the Mute. The Mute tensed, unsure of what was about to happen.

Diarmuid straddled him, hitching up his tunic. The Mute’s breath caught, hesitantly entranced by what Diarmuid tried to do. He brought his hands up to his waist to take him off, but Diarmuid’s hands covered his.

“No, wait,” he whispered. “I want to. With you.”

The Mute stilled his hands, trying to ask a dozen questions with just a glance.

“You… don’t want to, right?” Diarmuid was worried now, that he’s been pushing his best friend too much. He started getting off, but they were both surprised by how quickly the Mute pulled him back.

He looked up into Diarmuid’s light eyes, letting him know it’s alright.

Diarmuid leaned down to kiss him, properly this time. He brought a hand to run through his hair, gasping into his lips as the Mute’s hands raked all across his backside, pulling him closer, chest to chest. 

Diarmuid let himself be handled, lost in the sensation of finally kissing his eternal constant. He felt the Mute’s hands trail up under his tunic, gliding over his knee, stopping at the edge of his breeches. Diarmuid was suddenly incredibly aware of the several layers of clothing separating them. The Mute noticed his anxiety and pulled back from the kiss, laying his head down on the pillow. Diarmuid held himself over him, eyes unsure.

The Mute tapped on his knee twice. Diarmuid quickly sat back and stood up, hands reaching under his tunic to undo the belt that held his breeches. As he worked his way out of his undergarments, he saw the Mute reach under his bed to grab a bag. From it he pulled out a flask and held it between his teeth as he began undoing the straps on his pants.

Diarmuid kicked his breeches to the side and knelt over the Mute, wanting to do it himself. He lightly brushed away his hands and finished pulling apart the strings that held his pants closed. As he did, he felt the Mute harden beneath the cloth, and when he slid it down, his erection flagged. He couldn’t help but blush at the sight, excited to see another man.

He felt a gentle hand tilt his head up, gaze meeting the Mute’s.

It’s alright.

He’s alright.

There’s nothing to be afraid of because they’re here, together.

The Mute took the flask from his teeth, pulled him closer, until Diarmuid was laying on top of him. He kissed him gently as he opened the flask and poured some oil onto his hand. He set the flask near him and lifted Diarmuid’s tunic to expose his backside. He slowly, gently slipped a finger into his opening. As he did, he felt Diarmuid jump in his arms, momentarily breaking their kiss as he gasped.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Diarmuid whispered. The Mute smiled at him and kissed him again, holding him steady as he started opening him up. Slowly but surely Diarmuid became accustomed to his finger, if his breath levelling out was any indication. The Mute slithered in another finger, then another, and pumped them easily in and out of him, relishing in the sounds that Diarmuid made. Diarmuid even rocked against his fingers, unknowingly rubbing their erections together, augmenting the pleasure all around.

The feeling of skin on skin, inside and out, was intoxicating, and the Mute wanted more. He spread his fingers in Diarmuid, who relaxed and opened up even further, breath hitching as he learned to enjoy the action. He unknowingly broke their kiss, eyes closed, gasping quietly, loudly. He could barely hold himself up anymore, wanting nothing more than to rock down on the Mute’s fingers.

The Mute pulled his fingers from him, making Diarmuid’s gasp hitch in his throat. He slowly sat him back up, mindful of the newfound sensitivity of his hole. He reached for the flask again, and poured more oil onto his hand, promptly lathering his own dick with it.

Diarmuid had his heart in his throat. He was struggling to swallow, his head was dizzy. His dick was fully erect, twitching at every new sensation. He felt the need to cover himself in embarrassment, but held back from doing so as he watched the Mute smooth his dick with oil.

Once he felt he was sufficiently slick for Diarmuid, the Mute looked up at him and gently placed his hands on his hips, inviting him to sit on him.

Diarmuid shifted over so that he was hovering right above his lap. He looked up at the Mute, who only nodded at him. He lowered himself down until he felt the tip of his dick against his skin. The Mute reached down to align his dick with Diarmuid’s opening, and helped Diarmuid slide all the way down. He gave him a moment to breathe, take it all in, get used to the sensation.

“Oh, Jesus,” was all he could say, and he felt the Mute laugh underneath him. His cheeks dusted with pink, and he lowered his head, smiling a bit too. He looked up into the Mute’s eyes and felt himself go redder in the face. The Mute’s hands slid up his thighs and held him in place, holding him, centering him. He slightly shifted, and felt the Mute’s dick move inside him, sending a shudder throughout his body.

Diarmuid pressed his hands on the Mute’s abdomen, holding himself up as he began to gently move his hips up and down his cock. His mouth hung open as the feeling of being entered and reentered slowly became known, filling himself up as much as he could by the Mute. The Mute himself felt heat wash over him as Diarmuid fucked himself on him, his tight ass squeezing him with every rock.

Diarmuid keeled over, fucking himself in earnest now, learning how to pleasure himself with the Mute. His hips rocked against the Mute’s, eager to receive him. He bounced on the Mute’s cock, up and down, up and down, chasing the pleasure that came with it.

Meanwhile, the Mute himself was mesmerized by Diarmuid. He’s never seen him come so undone. He wanted to capture the moment, keep it forever. But Diarmuid became overeager, and accidentally made him slip out of him. The whine he made was unbearably lovely, and he even seemed scandalized that such a thing had occurred to him. He opened his eyes wide, and looked at the Mute for an answer.

He smiled at his confused face, and pressed a kiss to his lips. He reached between them, meaning to grab hold of his dick so he could reenter Diarmuid, but his damned habit was in the way. He decided to strip him of it, holding onto the skirt of it with both hands and lifting it off. Diarmuid realized what he was doing, and lifted his arms, helping slide out of his habit. The Mute threw the offending cloth to the side, and brought a hand up to caress Diarmuid’s cheek, bringing him down to kiss him once more as he realigned himself with Diarmuid’s hole, and eased himself back in. He wrapped his arm around him, holding him close as he began rocking his hips into Diarmuid’s, finally taking charge and fucking him. Diarmuid held himself up by sheer will, squeezing his eyes shut as he gasped with every stroke.

The Mute groaned as he fucked Diarmuid, sweet pressure meeting him every time. It’s been years since he’s last had a fuck, and Diarmuid’s virgin ass was the perfect homecoming for him. He watched transfixed at all of Diarmuid’s reactions, his soft gasps, the goosebumping of his skin. His arms shook as he kept himself up, and the Mute raked his hands up his sides, down his back, to grab hold of his ass. Diarmuid’s eyes opened as he moaned, looking at the Mute with something like adoration in his eyes.

That look. That fucking look. Those damned brown brown eyes. Shit, they nearly made him cum, making his abdomen tighten, dick twitch as he slid in and out of Diarmuid. He brought up a hand to cup his cheek, slide his thumb over to the corner of Diarmuid’s mouth and slip it in. Diarmuid sucked on it eagerly, closing his eyes as if in fervent prayer. This was, altogether, too much. Diarmuid was rocking backwards onto him, moaning like every virgin does on their first time, skin warm. His brows creased, in a gasp he opened his mouth. The Mute used his hand to bring his face up to his own, wanting to kiss his red red lips. Diarmuid went to him easily, pliant in his every move. His hands were on the Mute’s chest, gripping onto the cloth, and when he leaned back from their kiss, his voice was needy and whiny.

“ _ Fuck _ , I’m, I’m, oh Jesus Christ,” he swore, head falling down to the Mute’s chest. Oh fuck, he’s gonna cum now, and the Mute wanted to see his face when he did. He grunted, grabbing better hold on Diarmuid’s hip and fucked into him harder now, using his other hand to tilt Diarmuid’s head up. Their eyes met, and a low whine came from Diarmuid before he finally lost the little control he had left, and came with a start onto the Mute’s stomach, body clenching all around him, on the Mute’s cock, on his chest. Diarmuid let out a pained cry as he rocked on the Mute’s dick, riding out his orgasm. His dick rubbed against the Mute’s stomach, and the Mute took hold of his cock, wanting to milk it for all its worth. Diarmuid bit his lip as he moaned. He brought a hand up to the Mute’s cheek, running his hand through his beard before pulling him in for a kiss. The Mute licked at his lips and Diarmuid opened up for him, letting his tongue discover him. The Mute fucked him erratically now, chasing after his own climax, and it soon came to him after a few more bucks, his cum filling Diarmuid up, grunting and moaning as he did so. They stayed like this for a few moments, rocking together, laying in their afterglow.

The Mute rubbed Diarmuid’s back, waited for his breathing to even out. He gingerly slid out of him, not wanting to agitate his hole any more than he had. Diarmuid lifted his head, and the Mute grinned at the sight of his blown-out eyes, looking all sluggish and elated.

“What?” Diarmuid asked, voice soft now in their tranquil moment. The Mute just shrugged and shook his head, pecking his lips as he wrapped his arms around Diarmuid to maneuver them side-by-side.

“No, no, tell me, what?” Diarmuid asked again, laying on his side easily. He looked at the Mute with so much love, the Mute was beside himself. He pressed another kiss to his lips, longer this time. He leaned back, and rolled over to reach for a rag to clean them up. When he rolled over again he kissed Diarmuid again before lifting his leg just so to clean up the seed that was spilling out. Diarmuid squirmed against him, a blush rising to his cheeks. The Mute finished, wiped himself clean, balled up the rag, and cast it to the side. He’ll worry about that tomorrow, but for right now, he wants to hold Diarmuid close to him, and the best part is that Diarmuid wants to be held.

Diarmuid fits right into the crook of the Mute’s neck, and when he breathes him in, the Mute feels at home. Diarmuid shivers, and the Mute remembers the blanket, and reaches for it, covering them both. They settle together again, and soon Diarmuid falls asleep. The Mute runs his hand through his hair, presses a kiss to his forehead, and soon joins him, his last conscious thoughts only being Diarmuid, Diarmuid, Diarmuid.


End file.
